A Swift Reflection
by LadyThompson
Summary: A speculation on how Dirandau and Serena may have felt eachother. No romance whatsoever.


Okay, I haven't updated in awhile, I know. I'm sorry. I don't have much in the way of a net connection. Currently, I'm working on getting a chapter of "I see, said the blind man" on the net.

Serena saw fall. This strange and cruel man who demanded perfection and endurance in all things. She saw him fall like a drop of rain, insignificant and soon followed by a deluge of dismal proportions.  
They had their differences, of course. He was cruel and vain, something which she endlessly wanted to berate him for. He did have a sense of fairness, however, though he used it in only the most sparing of ways.

There were plenty of times she was certain she hated him, certain that she regretted ever having him come into her life.  
But this was one of the sweeter moments, the ones that gave her pause and made him more than tolerable.

She could still recall that awkward day he came to her. Everything had gone black around her, giving her an acute sense that she was alone. She had been so exhausted and afraid of the other people in this place that she didn't mind it. She welcomed this darkness.

A young man was there before her, staring at her with intensity. He was older than her, about her brother's age. In fact, as she looked at him, he seemed so very much like Allen. His demeanor, his expressions. She had difficulty recalling certain details of his face, however. She felt so sad that her brother was slipping away from her.

He stared at her for the longest time.

"W..who are you?" she asked between sobs.

"I'm not sure."

"...oh..."

"They hurt you?" he inquired while pointing to her arms, which were covered with little nicks and cuts.

She nodded gravely.

"And they'll be doing it again when they make me come back," she replied.

"You are not strong," he said. His words were not tainted with derision, but rather with concern about the state of things. It was a simple fact, and it was true.

"..Y..es..."

"I am."

She glanced up at this boy, wondering why he was talking to her like this. No one did. They were either tormenting her, or talking in a pitying manner with their sweet nothings about hope.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of them."

"What are you talking about?"

"It is everything to you, but nothing to me. They won't bother me. I won't care."

He moved closer to her.

"I'm a fighter, you know. I can fight your battles for you because you can't fight them yourself."  
Such a strange offer.

He knelt down next to her on one knee, the way her brother always used to.

"I will take care of you," he said.

She nodded in agreement, her tears subsiding. And then she drifted off to some previously unknown place. It was dark at first. As her fears faded, it became brighter and filled with color. It became filled with her dreams.

The boy continually resided in the darkness. He would always live there, and he would always be alone. Occassionally he would join her in the happy dreams, but not often. He was too grave and serious. He rarely spoke to her.

She'd held unbending love and respect for him. At least until she discovered what he was really like. They began fighting. The words in their fights revealed the nature of how his life out there had progressed. His first murders and the lack of honor in his dealings with others. She made mention of how someone such as he should not live. He replied by mentioning that she still couldn't take it, the truth of the statement cutting her to shreds.

It was hard, but they managed. And she eventually decided that he had to be the way he was. He was a fighter and a survivor, and his behavior was only a tool he used to get along.

And now this survivor was in danger of being destroyed. He was always crying when she saw him. She could hardly talk to him, and he refused to fight with her. He could do nothing but collapse on the floor of his dark room. She offered to take over for him, and that brought him back. "You couldn't do it," he would say. "You are still weak." And he pulled himself up from the floor and tried to continue on as nothing had happened.

The man had no choices. She felt sorrow for him even as she reviled in horror at his actions.

He couldn't pretend forever. His work suffered and he often seemed to have lost his heart. The only thing he could get riled up about was the thought of his great enemy. More precisely, thoughts of the death of his enemy.

But that enemy was to destroy him as well, for he was slipping and no longer careful.

The only thing he cared about was before him, threatening to destroy him. She feared the worst. He couldn't last much longer, no matter what he believed.  
And now he was back there and everything was to change. Regardless of whether he wanted to fight, he was no longer strong. He was exhausted and weak. And he fell to the ground, not intending to rise again.

"Don't worry," she said.

"I won't. You have -him- to fight for you."

A hint of jealousy, often noted before, came through in his words. He had never liked Allen for reasons he found difficult to explain. He knew what Serena wished she saw when she looked at him. He had only been drawn towards her because she needed her brother. He was a replacement, and replacements aren't needed when the real thing returns.

She kissed him for all that he had done for her and promised to return in sleep. He grudgingly let her go. She would never be the same towards him, he knew. She wouldn't need him.

And as she heldher brother and saw that which Dirandau had obsessed over, she was surprised by how pristine it looked. Not like the horrid thing he spoke of. She would now see the world through her eyes and relay it back to him. And perhaps the way she saw things would make him smile. She would make the world a better place, if only for him.


End file.
